Ever wondered how Artemis and his father interact with each other? Do they talk criminal shoptalk? Are they all happyfamilies? What would they say to the other on their first meeting after TAI? Then read this. Now! I'm almost sure you won't regret it.

Disclaimer:
All characters and events from the Artemis Fowl books belong to Eoin Colfer
and his publishers. And if you didn't
know that… Well…

Author's
Note: Credit must
be give to Fayra Lee on the Arty Fowl Yahoogroup who asked about any fics with
the first meeting of Artemis and Artemis Senior after The Arctic Incidence.

And does
anyone know how you could correctly make 'Artemis' plural? My school kicked Latin as a subject last
year and so I'm half guessing. ::sigh::
I love Latin…

The sun was
casting light over the city of Helsinki but the idea of that light being
transformed into warmth was almost laughable.
It is the sun which shines on snow slopes and through the bars of a
prison cell. Artemis wrapped his coat
closer and shook off Butler's worried look with a half-pained smile. His mother would be meeting them in the
hospital with Juliet and then he would see his father. Or at least that was what they planned to
do.

And Artemis
just hoped that even if his father wasn't awake, that at least he would look
better than he had looked just before Holly had dropped him here for treatment.

The last
time he had seen his father - the one time he had opened his eyes since they
had rescued him - had been just before the mind-wipe had been performed. He was still mostly asleep, but the look of
terror in his eyes when he saw the hulking shape of Butler… Ostentatiously the reason for a mind-wipe
was for Artemis' protection and the safety of the People… but the real reason
is that it would be beyond cruelty to leave someone with memories like that if
you had the power to remove them from the conscious mind. And hopefully he would think the dreams only
nightmares.

By the time
the boy and his manservant had entered the depressingly grey and lifeless
grounds, Artemis' guts seemed to be trying to break for freedom before the
guillotine fell. Artemis had the vague
realisation that this was what normal children felt with the approach of a
speech or a Maths test and he momentarily thankful that he wasn't usually so burdened. But then the feeling and premonition
overtook the rest of his thoughts as he saw an old man being wheeled around the
campus by a nurse. He gulped, almost
frozen to the spot.

He didn't
want to go any further, wanted to just stand here like a particularly
wheezy-looking statue for the rest of his life. But if he did… Artemis
isn't renowned for his courage but at least his cowardice of something worse
could keep him going.

Butler put
his hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze as the entered the main
building and made their way to the upper-floor where Artemis' father was. They were in the corridor with Artemis
Senior's room at the very end when Artemis' legs did what they had been
threatening to do for almost 20 minutes, and refused to move another step.

He looked
with dread at the door at the very end and swallowed. Butler's hand landed on his shoulder again and this time stayed
there in reassurance. He was about to
squirm out of Butler's grip and run back the way he had come, Italian Loafers
be damned, when the door opened, silhouetting a one-legged man, obviously weak,
being pushed in a wheel-chair.

"Father." Artemis' voice was soft, almost unbelieving.

The man
looked up and smiled as huge as he could manage. "Artemis… I wondered when you'd come out of your nuclear
physics class and inventor conventions to visit your sick old dad."

"Well…
I'm here now, aren't I?"

"That
you are." Then he turned to the
nurse pushing him and waved her off.
"I'm sure Butler can push me down to the grounds."

Butler
grasped the handles and pushed him towards the lift, taking it slowly, Artemis
walking alongside. The silence didn't
really become noticeable for almost a minute.
And then the realisation made it even more awkward.

They
reached the ground floor and moved through the foyer to the stale grey
gardens. They found a little courtyard
where they could be alone, with one straggly bush which might have once had
flowers and a single stone bench.

Butler
manoeuvred the wheelchair so that it was facing out and then backed off. When he had almost left the courtyard he
turned back around with a smile.
"It's good to have you back Mister Fowl, sir." Artemis' father gave a small nod with a tiny
hint of emotion and Butler left.

The silence
became louder than a rioting football crowd.

Artemis
sank onto the seat and slouched down, not caring that his immaculate posture
was in jeopardy.

Artemis
Fowl the First stared out at the dying plant.
"I didn't believe those people telling me that 2 years had passed
until I saw you just now. I had thought
they were just mistaken, tricking me, but … you must have grown 4 inches since
I last saw you. But I can't remember
anything else since. For me I saw you a
week ago and then I woke up a day later.
And I've really missed 2 years of your childhood."

Artemis
didn't quite know what to say and so said nothing, staring at the plant as
well.

"But
you were never really a child, were you son?"

Artemis
answered the rhetorical question.
"Probably not. Although if
that's a good thing or a bad thing…"
Artemis shrugged and stared outwards.

"What
have you done in the past years? Broken
the world record for greatest number of patents yet?"

"Unfortunately,
no; I'm very close though. I designed
the new Dublin Opera House last year and I got a government grant for some of
my research - a hopeless and completely pathetic one but at least it's
recognition. I've even got some
theoretical plans for a water-powered car engine … but I don't feel like taking
on the global powers just yet."

"Think
of the panic that would cause."
Artemis Senior said with a mocking laugh. "Don't make those plans a
reality anytime soon, okay? I don't
think I could cope with my son becoming the world's most wanted overnight."

"It
would prove to everyone once and for all that their governments don't care
about them or the environment... just money."

"You
would have complete control over almost all the world economies. Forget the American president being the most
powerful man in the world, it would all be you." Artemis Senior said to his son with a massive, all-consuming,
completely ridiculous and indulgent grin.

"Only
unappreciative people who don't understand the wonders of working the
mind."

"I
completely agree, Father."

There was
another minute of silence but this time it was warm and contented, almost
managing to cheer up the gloomy grey atmosphere around them.

"How
did you cope while I was … wherever I was?"

"All
right, I guess."

"Did
you make sure your mother was alright?
When I was talking to her, she seemed like she was hiding
something."

"I
would have given half a tonne of gold to keep her safe. I still would."

"If
you had half a tonne of gold, of course."

"Of
course, Father."

Artemis
Senior seemed to know that there was something else his son wasn't telling him
but he couldn't quite figure out what it might be, or even what might have been
omitted. It was really only a
suspicion, and even his father should be slightly suspicious of Artemis Fowl
the Second.

"You
haven't bankrupted me have you?"
He said very quickly, obviously scared of the answer.

"How
low do you think my IQ is, Father?"

"Sorry,
Artemis. I was just… Sorry."

"That's
quite alright. I would be worrying
about your IQ, or at least your memory, if you didn't think me
possible of doing something like that."
He said with a carefree, but slightly haunted look.

"I
learnt not to underestimate you a long time ago, son. Probably when you were 4 and … what was it that you did? It was…
You walked up to a politician that we had as a guest at a dinner party -
you were meant to be in bed, of course - and started arguing about state policy
with him. And he tried to brush it off
since it was coming from a little boy less than 3 feet high, but then you
quoted him when he contradicted himself or lied. In five minutes you had everyone watching you in amazement. And you only stopped talking when Michael
physically removed you from the room.
As I understand it our dear Major gave Butler quite an ear bashing (and,
knowing the Butler family, probably something more) afterwards for letting you
out of his sight on such an important occasion. And I don't think that politician came back after that,
especially after the entire story got out to the press - he might even have
retired from the humiliation of it all, I can't quite remember."

"I
remember that. Although I didn't
understand the implications of what I was doing just then - I was just pointing
out that he seemed to have forgotten some of the things he had said
before."

"No
one could talk about anything else for the entire evening. I was very proud of you just for that. Your mother and I had the statistics for how
special you were - are - but that just proved it in a night. And it also proved that it was fatal to
underestimate you or to have a loose tongue when you were around."

"Pity
no one else learnt. I just let them dig
their own graves and sit back to watch."

"I
don't believe that you're completely guiltless on that account. What about the saying 'so sharp you'll
cut yourself'?"

"Ah,
but my dear Father, I am so sharp I can keep my eye on the blade."

"That
is too true on occasion. Much too
true. Sometimes I've wished that I just
had a normal boy for a son."

"Father!"

"Only
sometimes. And I regret even the
thought whenever you do something so startlingly brilliant that no one knows
how to act."

"Sometimes
I wish I was 'normal' as well."

"But
you wouldn't be my Arty then."

"I
know. And I know that it's just the
crush on the idea. It is only because
it's a dream of something that will never be true that I find it appealing
but…" He suddenly sounded assertive,
and slightly mocking. "I want to be
able to accurately understand the appeal of acting childishly. Or maybe not, but…"

Artemis
Senior shifted his chair around slightly and grasped Artemis' hands. "Yes, son." And he raised the hands to his mouth and
laid a small kiss on the fingers.

They just
sat there in silence looking at each other for a moment or two before the hands
were lowered and gazes broke, shifting back to the neutral elements of the
courtyard.

"Artemis. You've always known more about things than
you should do." Artemis nodded and
looked back up at the now scared face of his father. "Can you tell me what you know about whatever happened to
me?"

Artemis
wouldn't deny the fact that he knew things - his father understood him too well
to believe that lie - but that didn't mean he would have to tell what they
were. "No, I can't. It wouldn't do you any good to hear it. Is being told a memory better than not
having experienced it in the first place?
Or being told that you were there but can't remember what had
happened?"

"Maybe. It's better than knowing nothing. I've got 2 years of blankness which nobody
else can fill in. You're 13 now and I
can only remember you as 11. The
doctors say that I was obviously conscious and moving for at least 4 months
before I came here because of the re-build up of muscle and the health of my
body but they can't give me whatever it was that I was seeing in those 4 or
more months. I don't even know what
happened before that either. I don't
even know how I came to be lost, or whatever happened. My last memory is of leaving the docks on
the Fowl Star and then… nothing until a week ago when I woke up
here. Can't you tell me anything? I don't even know where Michael - the Major
- is. Or what has happened to him. Did something happen to him?"

"I…
I'll tell you that. Um, where to begin
and what to say… When you were
approaching Russia with that ship-load of Cola, the ship was sunk. I'm sorry Father, but Michael died; they
found his body. Everyone except you
were accounted for - all dead. We didn't
know where you were for 2 years. You
were declared legally dead last year and now you're back."

Artemis
Senior's face had turned pale at the news that his aging, life-long friend was
now dead. And that he hadn't even known
about it for 2 years.

"Maybe
I should take you back inside, Father."

Artemis
Senior waved off his son. "No, I'm
quite alright. You said 'was sunk' not
just 'sunk'. That was on purpose. Do I want to know why?"

"The
Mafiya. They hit the Fowl Star
with a stolen missile. They didn't like
the idea of you taking their business."

"I… I
had known that they would do something but I didn't think… I'm sorry, Artemis. I'm so sorry. I knew and
I still went and did something which killed Michael, the ship crew… Left you alone without a father or anybody
to defend you and your brain to your mother." He tried a small smile but it didn't make his eyes shine like it
should have done.

"Promise
me that you'll never do something like that.
A risk is alright, so long as it is not a risk which involves
endangering others. Risking other
people isn't your right. Risking
yourself when you have a duty or responsibility to others is not your
right. Promise me that you'll never do
something like that; that you'll never do something so stupidly selfish."

Artemis
looked away, thinking with pain of Butler and Juliet drinking filled glasses of
champagne. But he nodded slightly to
appease his father.

"You're
a good person, Artemis." Said his
father lightly stroking his face with one frail hand. "I couldn't possibly say 'boy', but a good person. Better than me at any rate. I wish we had given you another name." Artemis looked up, slightly shocked and
almost… afraid of what that simple sentence could mean. "You shouldn't have a 'Junior' or 'the
Second' tacked onto your name. You
should be your own; no name that taints what you can be. No supposed shadow to overcome or
outshine. I'm not worthy to give you my
name, son."

Artemis
felt guilty tears in his eyes and tried to get rid of them with sheer
willpower. He failed and chose to bury
his face in his father's shoulder, curling up in his lap as if he was a normal
boy of only 7.

After too
long sobbing he muttered into the now damp jumper: "I wish I could say that it was childish naivety that lead
some of my actions but it wasn't. It
wasn't. I'm not worthy to be named
after you; I know I'm not. You are …
noble and I… But I'm glad, so, so glad,
that you think I'm more - could be more
- than I know I am."

The father
ran his hands up and down the back of his son, soothing the sobs before kissing
the crown of the head rested against him.

"You can
always be better than you think yourself to be."

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